


Stained Silk

by Hold_en



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Horror, Mystery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2019-07-04 02:16:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15831696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hold_en/pseuds/Hold_en
Summary: When Hermione returns to Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry as a Muggle Studies Professor she expects things to be strange. Just not *this* strange. Between unruly students, threatening missives and a dark mystery plaguing the castle how will Hermione cope? And how can she convince a recently engaged Severus Snape to become her ally in solving the riddle?Warning: dark





	1. A Proposal

July 09, 2005.

Dearest Miss Granger,

I hope this letter finds you well. As _Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry_ enters into another year of students and studies we are also bringing in a partially new faculty. As you may have heard, Professor Flitwick and  Professor Hygemann have retired and in turn we are seeking a new Charms and Muggle Studies professor respectively. Perhaps by now you have sussed out the reason for my missive to you?

As you may be surprised to learn, we here at Hogwarts take a keen interest in the successes of our students and your case is no different. We were delighted to read of your position in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the _Daily Prophet_. Through this same vein (and due in large part to Rita Skeeter’s invasive reporting) we also learned of your decision for a sabbatical.  

I wondered if during this time you might consider the temporary position of Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We’ve been unable to secure a suitable individual for the position and my mind immediately drew to you. You have such extensive experience in Muggle-life as well as some of the highest grades we here at Hogwarts have ever bestowed on any student. Combined with your natural leadership and gift for passing knowledge onto others I thought this may be a perfect fit for your skills and talents.

Should you accept the position for our fall term, you would be paid an annual sum of 18,000 galleons and be given free room and board within the school. On top of teaching duties you would be required to do some volunteering for social functions, take on some patrolling shifts and other light duties. A more comprehensive list of duties will be owled to you should you accept the position. If given advance notice, additional teaching supplies required will be prepared for your arrival.

If you accept I am also happy to write a letter of recommendation for any future employment which may put you in good stead for any future Ministry advancements. However we would of course understand if you required a more restful and relaxing sojourn during your sabbatical - you have most assuredly earned it. 

However, please do consider the offer and let me know of your decision as promptly as possible. And above all please know that we here at Hogwarts take great joy in your successes, whatever your decision.

Most sincerely,

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall


	2. The Arrival

 

The bags on Hermione's shoulder were heavy but she barely noticed their weight. She was far too exhilarated at staring back up at the façade of the castle known as Hogwarts. A place she called home for seven years. The school she had graduated from with highest honors. The school she had lost her innocence and come out the stronger for it.   
  
And now eight years later she was back.  
  
She had been required at Hogwarts a week before classes were to begin for preparation and instruction. Being the person that she was, she already had a syllabus, lesson plan and supply list ready for Minerva’s perusal and approval. She would be the youngest one teaching there and because of that she refused to look under prepared or inexperienced. She was going to enjoy her time here, even if it were from the other side of the mirror. Imagine, Hermione Granger, a professor at Hogwarts!  A sudden illicit thrill went through her as she realized she’d be able to peruse the _Restricted Section_ at her leisure.

Being a worker in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures had been a most rewarding challenge, but one that Hermione was ready to move on from. She had learned quite a bit from the workers there, but her reputation preceded her.  When she had first started she had a taste of what life for Harry must be like – horrible. She worked hard to gain their admiration for her actual work, not her hand in the defeat of Voldemort.

Harry had been diligently working as an Auror as long as she had been employed– already one of the top in his department. It wouldn’t be long before he was running it, she was sure. His letters to her were always warm and full of spelling mistakes, as she recalled he often wrote quickly, never bother to spell check. She didn’t mind though – she was always delighted to read something from him.

Ron had been an Auror as well – fighting alongside Harry as he always had when they were children. Hermione often looked forward to his letters, but they were short and to the point. He was overwhelmed and she could tell by the length of his parchment. When they did manage to get together it was very much as if they were trees clinging together in a gale. They had a shared past – something that no one else could really understand. They laughed and jokes and made love, but they also fought and ignored one another.

Only recently had he come to work with George at _Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes_ , the joke shop that he and Fred had brought to life. And only recently had the tumultuous relationship of Hermione and Ron come to an end. Not with a bang, but with a whimper.  They parted amicably, but they hadn’t spoken to one another since the early summer when Ron had formally ended their relationship.

Hermione wrinkled her nose when she recalled the ridiculous rumor splayed about the social column of the _Daily Prophet_. Accompanying a most unflattering photo of her walking into in Knockturn Alley, her hand raised in front of her in silent bid for privacy, the short article had made audacious claims about her.

_Hermione Granger, sidekick to the Boy Who Lived to Defeat the Dark Lord, was recently spotted in  Diagon Alley going for a romantic meal with none other than former flame, Bulgarian heartthrob Victor Krum! When asked about her rumored romantic relationship with Ronald Weasley, Auror, Miss Granger refused to give any verbal response._

_Could this be the reason for Miss Granger’s purported leave of her position in the Ministry? Arthur Weasley, father of Ronald Weasley, holds a very advantageous position in the Ministry. Is this perhaps a disciplinary measure against the girl for breaking the heart of his youngest son? Or is this a ‘sabbatical’ as Miss Granger has previously claimed?_

_This reporter wonders what exactly it is Hermione Granger is trying to hide?  Granger and Krum quickly entered the pub and an inside source claims “They chatting all night over a bottle of white wine.” Will this plain but ambitious witch ever stop playing about with the hearts of wizards? This reporter thinks not!_

Written by none other than the horrid beetle herself; Rita bloody Skeeter.  And since all eyes were on the infamous Hermione Granger, the stupid woman likely believed she had no chance of being thrust back into a bottle and held ransom but the formerly bushy-haired girl.

The article hadn’t held one word of truth of course – she and Ron had parted as friends and Viktor would never drink white wine! She had been interviewing the Quidditch star for one of her work projects and he’d suggested the _Three Broomsticks_ as a location to meet. However as soon as she’d seen him at the door of the pub he’d smiled broadly and welcomed her into a kind hug. The flash of light from the camera had shocked them both and Rita had emerged from the shadows like some triumphant snake, eyeing her prey before lambasting them with accusations.

Hermione and Viktor had rushed into the pub, laughing to themselves that not much had changed before sitting down and chatting about work related matters, Victor’s current girlfriend and Hermione’s end of her relationship with Ron. Viktor had listened kindly, as any friend would. They had grown up and their childhood infatuation with one another had far outrun its course –but Rita Skeeter would never be swayed it would seem.

No, the reason for Hermione’s sabbatical had been much more boring compared to the salacious promise of a jilted lover. It had simply been that Hermione Granger was bored.

In many other ways she felt she had reached the apex of that particular route of employment within the ministry. There were no more challenges, no more advancement opportunities. Then when Ron had dumped her, she had felt this strange sense of peace come over her. She wondered if she hadn’t been waiting for her childhood friend to break it off for a very long time. If Ron hadn’t dumped her would she have continued just going along with what felt comfortable? When this horrid thought had occurred to her, she’d realized she needed to step back and take stock of her life and what she wanted out of it.

 She had still been mulling it over when she received McGonagall’s parchment, and declaring it a sign from the gods above, she had agreed to it on the spot.

And now she was here, beaming to herself and contended to be back. Life was as it should be.  
  
She looked to the heavy oak door in front of her in anticipation even though she knew what lay beyond it. She could close her eyes and know exactly what to expect, her feet could guide her blind. Two sets of armor on either side of the door would greet her; cold to an outsider but a welcome harbinger of safety  to the students of the school. A large marble staircase would be deep set in front of her, a ways away. On either side of that, two staircases, one welcoming the other daunting.  
  
One led to the kitchens, and if desired, the Hufflepuff common room. The other staircase however, was not so pleasant. It was that staircase on the left, that lead to the dungeons, and in turn the Slytherin Common Room. Thoughts of a particular war hero crossed her mind, but she quickly pushed them from her thoughts.  

Instead, Hermione continued to envision the vast expanse of Hogwarts from memory. If she were to turn right, she would be headed in the direction of the Great Hall. If she were to turn left she would come across various classrooms and a door to the courtyard. She smiled softly, familiar memories and feelings overtaking her, pushing out her doubt and current nerves.  
  
She was ready.   
  
She rose a hand then, her palm prepared to push open the large door. Just before she could press it flat to the door, she was lifted right off the ground round her middle! Her eyes bulged and she felt her fear taking her over. Memories of being chased by a troll in the women’s lavatory suddenly assaulted her and on instinct she gave a small shriek of horror then before a familiar, lowly buzzing voice called out her name;  
  
"'Ermione!"   
  
Hermione felt her heartbeat slowing as the large figure placed her back on the ground as gently as if she were made of glass. She turned around quickly, looking into the warm beetle black eyes of the former Groundskeeper. The same smile, the same jacket, the same kind disposition and she felt her small heart swell.   
  
"Hagrid!" She gave him an even larger hug, though she couldn't fit her arms all the way around his middle. She pulled back, beaming as she looked to him. "I didn't know it was you!"  
  
"I didn't mean to scare 'yeh," Hagrid said bashfully, patting her shoulder gently. "I was jus' so excited to see yeh after all these 'ears."  
  
"Think nothing of it Hagrid!" Hermione responded smoothly, arranging her coat back into a comfortable position. "How have you been?"  
  
"Well, you know," Hagrid said self consciously grinning, "been takin' care of me creatures careful, none dead yet. Classes are startin' to fill up more an' more." At this he gave a small grin, "And not one bad report yet."  
  
"I'm so glad to hear it, and so glad you were the first person I saw here," Hermione responded truthfully, giving him an easy smile. "I'm a bit nervous."  
  
"Nervous?" Hagrid said with a look of surprise, "You?"  
  
"Yes," Hermione insisted with a nervous giggle. "I mean, I know all the Professor's here, aside from the replacements of course. I wonder how they’ll accept me. From student to Professor seems a large jump in only eight years and I worry they won’t see me as their equal.”

A feel passed over like a whisper of fingertips on her spine. That same proclamation had been resounding her entire life. This desperate desire to be accepted by the Muggles back in primary school. To be seen as equal to the magical people she knew here. She was forever straddling a world that seemed determined to keep her out.  Suddenly Hermione's worried dark eyes darted up to the half-giant.

“What if they don’t like me because I’m not a student anymore?”

She knew it sounded pathetic and plaintive and if it had been anyone other than Hagrid standing in front of her she never would have uttered it. But his eyes turned warm and gentle and he lowered himself slightly before he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“If they treat yeh unkind then they’re the biggest gits to walk this school and I’ll be sure ta tell ‘em so.   Besides, the ‘Ermione I knew never backed away from a challenge.”

Hermione smiled deftly, knowing what the half-giant said was true. If they didn’t like her, she’d simply convince them! Hadn’t she always risen to such challenges? Harry and Ron hadn’t exactly been knocking down her dorm room door desperate to be mates.  Eager to move past this moment of insecurity, Hermione flashed Hagrid a small grin.

 "Have I missed any interesting gossip around here?"  
  
Hagrid gave a small chuckle at the prospect, and then looked thoughtful before speaking with a rather odd look on his face. "Well, actually ‘Ermione 'ave you heard about-"  
  
Before Hagrid could finish, the large oak doors to Hogwarts were opened, allowing a gust of cool air to pass over he and Hermione as they looked around one side of the door, seeing that the foyer was empty. The castle was beckoning her in and she was excited and tentative to step through the threshold.   
  
"It's time," Hermione said with a small gulp, looking up to Hagrid worriedly.   
  
"Don' be worried," Hagrid worried as he gave her a small nudge into the foyer. "You're goin' to be great, I know it!"   
  
She stepped into the foyer, looking to the familiar landscape before turning back to Hagrid with a pensive look on her face. He gave her a small wink and shut the large door behind her with a gentle click.   
  
She was alone.  
  
Suddenly, there was a flash of black and dark red, and before she could collect the fragments of various feelings she was experiencing, Minerva was in front of her with a broad smile, clapping Hermione on the shoulder delightedly.   
  
"Welcome back, Miss Granger!" McGonagall chortled as Hermione looked to the older woman, a smile breaking over her features as she closed the large door behind her. The sound of her footsteps echoed on the grainy floor, as Minerva rushed over to greet her at a closer proximity.  
  
"Hello Headmistress!" Hermione said as she strode over, dropping her heavy bags to give the older woman a gentle hug. She wasn't accustomed to much physical contact from McGonagall, it seemed more familiar than she had expected. She wondered if the woman had eased in her years, because Hermione was a teacher or simply because the war was over and she could relax.   
  
She returned the hug easily, pulling back so that she could take a look at her teacher once more, like a breath of fresh air, her eyes clear and focused, always reminding Hermione of a breezy day in the spring, something that made her feel almost completely calm and at ease.  
  
"How was your trip m'dear?"  
  
"Oh, just fine," Hermione answered grinning. "I'm just so glad to be here."  
  
Minerva smiled softly as before. "I'm glad to hear it."   
  
"I've got my syllabus all ready," Hermione suddenly blurted, feeling so idiotic after she had done so. She sounded like such an eager overachiever, even when she didn't mean to. She was just so excited to have everything all finalized and ready. Who could honestly blame her?  
  
"I was just-" Minerva started and then suddenly glanced over Hermione’s shoulder, speaking with gentle order.   
  
"Yes, please take those to Room twelve. Thank you very much."  
  
Hermione whirled around to where Minerva had been looking and her bags had been moments before, only to see that they were gone. She saw nothing surrounding the bare spot and so she turned back to Minerva, a dark eyebrow raised in surprised confusion.  
  
"House Elves, yes," Minerva said with familiar mirth at the girl's face. "I know of your campaigning for their rights, Hermione and we here are in complete agreement. The elves who work here do so of their own free will. They have better quarters, vacations and more. Any time they want to leave, they’ve simply to ask and it will be done. We have an entire store of Albus’ left over woolen socks for any such occasion.”

Hermione felt the tears welling in her eyes, unable to speak a moment.  The thought of Albus and of her work actually reaching the wizarding world left her momentarily breathless. Minerva saw this and gave the girl’s upper arm a soft squeeze.  
  
"Are you hungry?" Minerva suddenly piped up. "The faculty is meeting in the Great Hall in a few moments. I was so glad to see you didn’t miss your ride here."   
  
"Oh," Hermione said, her stomach feeling queasy. The thought of seeing everyone again was a joyful thing, but a nerve wracking one as well. "Yes, that would be great."  
  
Minerva nodded, sensing the girl's nerves as they continued to the Great Hall. "You've nothing to worry about Hermione. You are just as knowledgeable and qualified for this job as any of the other's here. Never forget that.”

“But I never studied to be a professor,” Hermione said tentatively as they strode.

“Neither did several professors here,” McGonagall said with a shrug. “Flitwick came to us with little to no teaching experience. He’d always been gifted at charms and wanted a chance to pass along that knowledge. He was with us over forty years. Are you are lacking in is experience? Teaching perhaps, but experience no. Something which I know you'll have conquered before the end of your first week."  
  
"Thank you ma’am," Hermione said with a small nod, her stomach slowing in its fluttering. Minerva McGonagall believed in her. "I only hope I can live up to all your expectations."  
  
"I'm sure you will,” the woman said knowingly as they stopped at the Great Hall doors. Hermione took another gulp, as if it were the last breath of air she would ever have. Minerva suddenly looked over to the girl, giving her a small, encouraging smile.

"And Hermione?"  
  
"Yes Headmistress?"  
  
"It's Minerva, from now on."  
  
Hermione nodded.   
  
The doors opened then, and Hermione observed the Professors sitting inside, sequestered around a large rectangular table at the head of the room. Almost like how it was normally arranged during the year, except all the teachers were around the one table chatting to one another.

"I'm off to get things arranged for our first meeting of the year," Minerva said with a gentle pat on her back, “you go and mingle."  
  
"Thank you," Hermione answered softly, watching as she left her side, leaving her defenseless and vulnerable.  
  
There was one back to her, of a tall person that she couldn't see the face of sitting by himself. Judging by what she could see it was male, and most likely the new Charms Professor. New like her. Should she go over and talk to him? Share that sense of camaraderie? No perhaps not. What if he wasn’t friendly? Surely she should ingratiate herself with the established professors before forming some inadvertent clique.  

Hermione took a moment to talk stock of her surroundings with a deep breath, quelling the fear in her heart and  finding familiar and friendly faces appearing along the strangers. Many of them were speaking to one another, not noticing her standing awkwardly off to the side. Part of her longed to be accepted into this group, but she wondered if she'd be able to hold her own in an actual conversation with other Professors. For all her practical experience, thinking of actually conversing with those she held in such high esteem felt strangely intimidating.

"Miss Granger!"  
  
Suddenly all the eyes of the room were on her, the faint sound of polite conversation suddenly ceasing. She felt herself blushing, even though she didn't know for sure, she felt all eyes on her. The blue eyes of the new teacher fell on hers and Hermione was surprised to find him to be quite appealing. But the owner of the voice had rushed from the table; s a short and portly figure came rushing over with a smile across pale pink lips. Hermione looked to the older woman, the familiar firmness of features, large watery eyes that could hold such warmth.   
  
Pomona Sprout, Herbology Professor, came over to Hermione, enveloping the girl in an unexpected hug that she returned happily. Pomona pulled back, looking to Hermione's face as the girl faltered shyly slightly under the sudden scrutiny.   
  
"My my," Pomona said softly, smiling a little. "How you've changed."  
  
"Not much," Hermione said with a self-conscious smile, aware that the other Professors were glancing over at her in interest.  
  
"It's not a physical change," Pomona  said wisely, "It's something much more meaningful. I can't put my finger on it."  
  
Hermione couldn't really put together what Sprout was saying, but she smiled anyway, giving a curt nod. "Thank you Professor."  
  
"It's Pomona now, Hermione," the woman said with a small smile. "You're a Professor here now after all."  
  
"Right." Hermione said with a small smile. "It's just so strange to call all my ex Professor's by their first names."

“Worry not, worry not," Pomona chortled warmly. "It will come with time. We were so delighted to hear that you’d accepted the position."  
  
Hermione was about to speak further when she was suddenly surrounded by several Professors, some shaking her hand, all offering welcome words. Some were new and some were old- many of the familiar faces looked only a bit changed. More lines, more grey. Hermione was delighted to see and talk to each of them, finding that the sudden storm of fear had passed her. That she was somehow being initiated into their secretive world, and the thought warmed her.

She didn't notice the Great Hall doors slamming open as two figures rushed in, for she was then caught up in a conversation with Professor Binns, who had remarkably enough, inquired about some new ways Hermione thought he could make the class more interesting.  
  
"Perhaps an example or two," Hermione suggested thoughtfully, not wishing to insult him. Professor Binns was _History of Magic_ teacher. A subject Hermione had been so excited about until she’d actually taken his course as a youngster and struggling to stay awake as the old man droned on like a vacuum at the front of the classroom. He was a tottering, wrinkled tortoise who seemed to be perpetually pushing his ghostly glasses up his long nose in concentration.

"How so?"  
  
"Well," Hermione said diplomatically, "Instead of just _talking_ about the History of magic, conjure up an example, a visual. Not every student is an auditory learner, after all."  
  
"That's a marvelous suggestion, Miss Grant," Professor Binns exclaimed happily, seeming to be thinking on this deeply. Hermione had been about to correct him on her last name, but realizing he had already floated away gave a shrug and took the available empty seat at the table.  She took a moment to take in all the faces around the table, pleased that she knew almost all of them save for the Defense Teacher (apparently a middle-aged witch with thick eyebrows who was pouring over a magical text about Inferi) the Potions Professor who was speaking to Pomona about using some of her materials for the third year potions class next week (apparently Slughorn had retired once more, having been replaced with a jittery looking man with bright red hair and a polka dot bowtie) and finally the Charms Professor (the handsome man with blue eyes and dark hair that she’d noticing earlier).

The rest of the staff remained mostly the same, and she was amused to note that sitting here with them felt so bizarre. She never could have imagined this when she was eleven and sitting with her friends. Feeling eyes on her she glanced across the table to see the Charms professor giving her an unreadable look before flushing slightly and engaging in conversation with Professor Vector – whom Hermione noticed had cut her hair into a short bob.

"Hello Hermione, what a pleasure to see you again."

Hermione turned her head in surprise, finding the light and somewhat breathy voice to be almost completely foreign. She couldn't place a face with it, but as she turned dark hair and silvery grey eyes came into view, Hermione was flooded with remembrance.   
  
"Oh, hello Professor Sinistra!" Hermione said surprised, for she didn’t think the woman would remember her.  Aurora Sinistra was another one of those teacher's she'd never quite connected with.  Hermione barely recalled Astronomy, due to its rather tedious nature. She adored stargazing, but found the whole class rather dull at times. Sinistra was a rather quiet woman, not particularly prominent in public functions and so forth. But she was in Hermione's opinion, very bright in her field and quite kind to her students.   
  
"Hermione," the woman said softly, her light grey eyes sparkling as she smiled sparingly. "How nice that you've returned. And please, call me Aurora."  
  
_I have to get better at remembering that. Stop calling them all Professor, Hermione! You sound like a bint!_  
  
She extended a hand for Hermione to shake, and before Hermione could return the motion, her eyes caught on a large piece of jewelry on the older woman's ring finger. It was a small, cushion cut emerald that sparkled lightly. Hermione was momentarily transfixed with the beauty of its deep green color, then confused.  
  
"Oh," Hermione said blushing as she realized she was staring and that the Professor had noticed in a soft smirk of bemusement. "I'm sorry, I just didn't know you were married Profes- Aurora."  
  
"Oh, you didn’t hear?" Sinistra said as she glanced at the ring.  
  
"Severus and I are engaged."

 


	3. The Meeting

Hermione gaped a moment, unsure that she’d heard the woman properly. When the words finally sunk in, she schooled her features into what she believed was a cheery and convincing smile.

“Congratulations,” she croaked, not quite believing the evidence in front of her. “That’s so wonderful!”

“Thank you,” Aurora said demurely, glancing at the glittering jewel before smiling up at Hermione through impossibly thick black lashes. “I’m very pleased.”

Hermione was certain she looked quite stricken in response. Aurora Sinistra and Severus Snape? In what world?! She took a glance at the beautiful ring once more, about to go on when Aurora’s attention was drawn to the end of the table where McGonagall appeared, hefting several large bundles of parchment. Hagrid was at her side, holding the rest of the materials and giving Hermione a subtle wink that she returned with a shy smile.

“Please pass these around,” Minerva said jovially to the professors. “And then we may begin the meeting.”

Hermione was grateful for the momentarily reprieve. She felt rattled -  truly shaken for being so on the outs. She felt so silly for being unaware of the engagement – surely it had ended up in the tabloids somewhere? But no, she had given up both _the Quibbler_ and the _Daily Prophet_ after her disastrous lunch-time interaction with Viktor. Deciding she wanted a break from all gossip while she plotted her next moves. Silly of her – already she was paying the price. 

“Now as you may be aware we have a few new faces here joining us,” Minerva said with a large smile, looking around to the seated professors. “We have Edgar Merriweather as our newest Charms professor.  He comes straight off of an interim position at _Beauxbatons_ \- Edgar, please introduce yourself.”

At this, the handsome man with dark hair and light eyes gave a shy wave, his cheeks pinking.

“Hullo, I’m Edgar,” the man said with a ghost of a smile. “I’m chuffed to be working with you all.”

Hermione decided he had to be at least a few years older than her – but not by much. His face wore a faint beard and Hermione could only imagine the ardor he would be bringing up in all the young witches at Hogwarts. His bright blue eyes rested on Hermione’s welcoming face a moment before flitting across to the other professors.

“And those of you who were with us in previous years may recognize our newest Muggle Studies professor, Miss Hermione Granger,” Minerva said with a very pleased grin. At this introduction, a few unfamiliar gazes drew over to her in shock. Clearly her reputation as Potter’s sidekick had preceded her. The red-headed potions master gave her an appraising smile.

“It’s so nice to be back here at Hogwarts,” Hermione gushed, unable to hold back her delight. “I hope I do you all proud. But should any of you have pointers or advice, please feel free to share them. I may have had a hand in defeating Voldemort, but the thought of teaching a classroom of Seventh Years has me feeling a bit anxious.”

At this there was a round of chuckles around the table at the girl, many of them giving her warm looks of welcome which she returned. She was already starting to feel accepted – there wasn’t an air of animosity between them. Except. . . Hermione glanced over to her right to see Professor Vector shooting her an unreadable look. One that didn’t look particularly friendly and caused Hermione to falter a moment.

“You’ll do brilliantly,” Aurora said with a small smile and gentle squeeze of Hermione’s arm, directing her attention away from the sour looking Vector. Hermione shot the woman sitting next to her a thankful smile.

“And now we move onto expectations this year,” Minerva said, opening her parchment to the last page and indicating the others should we well. With a rustling of parchment all eyes were on the instructions below.

But as Hermione glanced over at the slim woman beside her, she couldn’t help but be surprised at the match. There was the first and most obviously discrepancy – Aurora Sinistra was by all accounts quite beautiful. With skin the shade of creamy dark chocolate, wide silvery eyes and a full, reddened mouth. Her lustrous black hair was always in a long plait down the middle of her back, tied elegantly with a dark purple ribbon. Hermione knew that logistically Aurora had to be close to forty-five, but her skin seemed perfect and untouched by age.

Severus Snape, as everyone knew, was not handsome. Or attractive. Really, the best way he could be described was: striking. With greasy dark hair and eyes against alabaster skin, a nose that ran rampant over his features and a mouth that seemed perpetually sneering, he could be classified as little else. She assumed he hadn’t changed much since she last saw him, and she thought back to the large article that had circulated upon his release from Azkaban last year.

Rita Skeeters front page article had been “ _Snape: Scoundrel or Saint_?” and had dominated the two inside pages as well, using photos of Snape from the Triwizard Tournament where he scowled and narrowed his eyes at everyone. Rita was keen to mention his sad past, her views on the man changing from each interview conducted through the two page spread. At first he was the most vile villain – a man who hedged his bets with Albus and Voldemort respectively.

Then he was a Byronic hero, tormented by his lost love like Heathcliff from _Wuthering Heights_. Back and forth and back and forth it went like this – making you hate Snape one moment and then want to hug him the next. In the end, the woman had summarized that Severus Snape was no scoundrel, but nor was he a saint. He was given no awards for his service – much like Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville had been. But he had also avoided the life sentence of Azkaban.  He had served only five years of this life sentence before the extreme heft of having Harry Potter and friends petition his release finally broke through and the new Minister for Magic agreed to the man’s premature release.  

Hermione, like Harry, had petitioned the minister for Snape’s release for several years, trying in vain to interview all the individuals who would talk to corroborate his story (there weren’t any). She and Harry had gone sifting through old memories of Albus’ that he kept on a shelf in his chambers, where she had come upon several hidden memories – including the conversation of Snape’s loyalty. It had been enough to convince the jury and the Minister had felt the keen pressure of social opinion.

 When he finally was released she had been too shame-faced to actually go to his final trial. Not that it mattered- he had been heralded a hero by the Boy Who Lived and many others. What more was there? He had then been awarded the Order of Merlin Second Class, a ceremony which he did not attend – much to the disappointment of the society papers.    

Hermione glanced to the parchment that Minerva had handed out to all of them, her eyes falling on her class schedule, offering a small exhale of breath as she viewed the workload in front of her. She was thankful for the organization of the schedule, it made it somehow less intimidating.

**Monday**

9:30 – 12PM: Muggle Studies Year 3

12: Luncheon

1:00 – 2:00PM: Muggle Studies Art Year 3

2:00 – 3:00PM: Muggle Studies Music  Year 3

3:00 – 4:00: Office Hours Year 3

4:00 – 5:00: Lesson Planning

**Tuesday**

9:30 – 12PM: Muggle Studies Year 4

12: Luncheon

1:00 – 2:00PM: Muggle Studies Art Year 4

2:00 – 3:00PM: Muggle Studies Music  Year 4

3:00 – 4:00: Office Hours Year 4

4:00 – 5:00: Lesson Planning

**Wednesday**

9:30 – 12PM: Muggle Studies Year 5

12: Luncheon

1:00 – 2:00PM: Muggle Studies Art Year 5

2:00 – 3:00PM: Muggle Studies Music  Year 5

3:00 – 4:00: Office Hours Year 5

4:00 – 5:00: Lesson Planning

**Thursday**

9:30 – 12PM: Muggle Studies Year 6

12: Luncheon

1:00 – 2:00PM: Muggle Studies Art Year 6

2:00 – 3:00PM: Muggle Studies Music  Year 6

3:00 – 4:00: Office Hours Year 6

4:00 – 5:00: Lesson Planning

**Friday**

9:30 – 12PM: Muggle Studies Year 7

12: Luncheon

1:00 – 2:00PM: Muggle Studies Art Year 7

2:00 – 3:00PM: Muggle Studies Music  Year 7

3:00 – 4:00: Office Hours Year 7

4:00 – 5:00: Lesson Planning

10pm – 2am: Hallways patrols.

Friday night Hallway patrols? Hermione stifled a grimace at the thought of what awaited her. Groping couples in dark corners, students trying to sneak into the restricted section of the library, pranks and more.  She thought back to all the chaos she Ron and Harry had gotten into – and at the tender age of eleven! If karma were real, something told her she would be suffering each Friday night.

Minerva was talking again, mostly about the timetables and the need for more funding. Hermione listened politely, knowing that much of this information had little to do with her. Muggle Studies was in a league of its own, as it were. No magic was required and the funding was minimal – she’d brought plenty of Muggle paraphernalia from home.  Minerva looked around the table, asking if there were any other funding proposals for the school year.

“I would actually like to speak about the funding of better telescopes,” Aurora said gently from Hermione’s side. “We’ve had the same ones since the 1800’s and I really feel we need to invest in some better ones.”

As Aurora spoke gently about the need for better telescopes, Hermione’s mind drifted to Snape once more. Hermione supposed there was a bit of guilt mixed in with her feelings about Snape. Running from him slumped against the wall, alone on the floor of the Shrieking Shack. She could still see the blood seeping out of the twin marks on his neck. Leaving him for dead as they went off to fight Voldemort had been the logistical thing to do of course. But had Hermione taken two extra seconds to feel for the man’s pulse. . .What would have happened?  She shook her head, knowing the dangers of ‘what if’ when it came to life experiences.  

But now? Now she was sitting beside his fiancé, affronted with the fact that she may actually have to _see_ him sometime. She thought she’d be safe here – in the safe and sturdy confines of Hogwarts, somewhere she assumed Snape would never want to again return. But with his fiancée here, there was little doubt that she would once again have to face him.  She inwardly groaned, taking a small sip of water from her goblet.

She glanced over at Aurora talking quietly to the Charms professor, unaware of Hermione’s scrutiny. Surely it had been Snape’s keen intelligence and bravery that drew the Astronomy professor to him – for what else was there?

***

After the meeting Hermione slipped away from the extra mingling (complete with elf-made wine) deferring that she had a headache. In truth, she was much too eager to go exploring this new part of the castle. She had only taken Muggle studies when she could in her third year before her classes became too overwhelming, even with the aid of the time turner.  Now wandering down one of the long, first floor corridors she felt her heart thrumming with anticipation at this new adventure.  

She came to the spot in the hallway marked 12. It looked like any other part of the corridor, all stone and more. But she tapped her wand over the small engraved ‘12’ gently.

“Alohomora,” she said, watching as the stones began to shuffle, clinking and moving until they brought forth the shape of a large walnut door. Hermione smiled, turning the door knob and stepping through the threshold. The stones worked hurriedly behind her, sealing her in as she stepped forward into her quarters, observing they were fairly small and plain. The floors were stone and the room offered a large window that looked out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. If she peered she could see Hagrid’s small hut in the distance, smoke pluming out of the chimney.

She stepped back, looking to her room in closer scrutiny. The walls were a light white color, and her bed was a double with plump looking white pillows, a cozy looking white duvet, covered still by a knitted crimson blanket. The fireplace was already crackling on the other side of the room and she saw that her trunks and bags were placed beside it. But something was missing – something quite important!

There was a sudden knock at her door and Hermione glanced over her shoulder in surprise. She hadn’t put any wards up yet and so the door opened with ease. She was surprised to see Edgar walk through the door, his long legs carrying him.

“I’m so sorry to be a bother,” he said in a sweet, befuddled way; his dark curls falling into his eyes. “But I think this might be yours.”

The man raised his arm and Hermione realized he was carrying a very large cat crate, along with a squashed faced half-kneazle who was now mewling anxiously upon the sight of Hermione.  Edgar dropped the carrier to the floor gently.

“Crooks!”  Hermione rushed over to her darling cat, dropping to her knees and wrenching open the carrier. Crooks gave a small sniff at the outside world before gingerly stepping out of his crate, stretching luxuriously. Hermione glanced up at the new Charms Professor in inquiry.

“Where did you find him?”

“It seems there was a bit of confusion as to our rooms,” Edgar replied with a small smile. “I’m in room twelve on the third floor. This might sound strange but do you happen to have a bag of men’s winter clothes?”

Hermione looked over to the hearth, seeing for the first time that there was a small trunk she didn’t recognize- it was navy blue with white stars dotting it. She tugged it free of her belongings, bringing it over to where Edgar stood awkwardly glancing around her room.

“Is this it?”

“Oh good,” the man replied, obviously relieved as he took the trunk from Hermione in a hurry. His fingertips brushed hers and Hermione saw as his cheeks pinked. She felt her own cheeks warming and she turned from him, feeling silly.

“Well I don’t seem to have anything else missing,” Hermione said, breaking the awkward silence. “If I see anything else that belongs to you I’ll be sure to return it.”

“Oh, brilliant, thanks,” Edgar replied with a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. “I’ll leave you to unpacking then.”

With that he gave an awkward turn, his hand firmly on the trunk as he rushed from her room, the door closing gently behind him. Hermione couldn’t stop the smile that was creeping across her features. Edgar was handsome, obviously clever and quite sweet.

_You don’t have time for romance._

Hermione nodded to her internal chastising, realizing that it was very true. She hadn’t time for silly crushes when she had so much she still had to do. She was determined to have this year be exceptional – to challenge her in ways she never thought possible. She wasn’t going to be sidetracked by a handsome man with pretty eyes.

She went back to investigating her room, observing as Crookshanks made his way to the center of her plus bed, making a few small circles before lowering himself down and closing his golden-yellow eyes. She moved to the large window once more, letting herself be bathed with the natural light that flooded through.  

 Under the window sat a large writing desk, abutted by two nearly empty bookshelves. On the desk rested a pile of parchment, a new quill and inkpot and a small gold seal with wax sticks that Hermione observed bore her last name and a small image of an otter. The only tome that rested on the shelves of the bookshelf was _Hogwarts; a history_. Hermione had a private smile to herself about that, wondering if it was customary for teacher’s to receive it, or it was Minerva’s idea of a little joke.

She wandered into her private loo, delighted to see a large claw-footed tub and pristine looking sink waiting for her. Fluffy red towels hung on the rails beside the tub and Hermione glanced up at the mirror, smoothing down her hair in habit when she saw it had become quite unruly in her trip over.

“Some _sleekeazy_ will do wonders for your hair,” the mirror said in a sing-song voice. Hermione nodded in response before closing the door to the loo firmly. The last thing she needed was a talkative mirror when all she wanted to do was relax and enjoy her adventuring.

She was unpacking her clothing into the large wardrobe at the corner of the room when she heard a small tapping at her window. She glanced over her shoulder to see a barn owl peering in at her, its legs

“Thank you,” Hermione said, patting it gently on the head. It made a small noise in its throat before rushing off in a flurry of wing flapping. Hermione watched it sail off into the darkening night sky before she unrolled the scroll in her hands, taking in the feminine looping scrawl.  

_Hermione,_

_I hope you are settling in nicely – should you need anything please just owl. In the meantime, I would like for you to refer to a professor during your week of preparation and Aurora Sinistra has graciously offered to have you observe her. Please arrive promptly to the Astronomy Tower at 11pm tomorrow evening. She will give you a run-through on how her classes go, what you need to expect during your first week and anything else she deems worthwhile for you to know. You will be in wonderful hands and I’m hoping that the evening will be of use to you._

_In the meantime, please set up the proper wards to your room and classroom and prepare any outlines should you require them. I have seen your proposed materials list and they will be waiting for you tomorrow afternoon. The Muggle Studies classroom is located on the first floor through the Muggle showroom in case you’ve forgotten (but somethings tells me you’ve not.)  
_

_Sincerely,_

_Minerva_

Hermione smiled in spite of herself at the woman’s humorous tone, folding the paper and placing it on her writing desk. She looked over to the cozy looking bed to her left, listening to the gentle purr of the slumbering Crookshanks observing that perhaps it was alright if she took a small nap – after all, she was going to be quite busy tomorrow.


	4. The Scream

When Hermione awoke it wasn’t to the cheery sounds of birds outside her window. Nor was it to the smell of a delicious breakfast waiting for her. No, what Hermione woke to was the unmistakable sound of a scream.

She darted up in bed, suddenly cold. She’d fallen asleep on top of the covers in her jeans and jumper and judging by the dark hearth, the fire had been out for hours. A glance to the window told her that it was likely the middle of the night. Crooks seemed to have started at the same sound that she had and was looking around the room in concern.

“You heard that too did you?” Hermione cooed, patting him gently. She glanced at her wristwatch and saw that it was just after three o’clock in the morning. Shivering, she pulled on her nearby robe. She stood, slipping into her trainers and making her way out her chambers door, her hand wrapped around her wand. The door creaked open slowly to the corridor which was silent as a grave and just as dark.

“ _Lumos_ ,” Hermione whispered, thankful for the glow that lit the tip of her wand before she closed her door behind her. She didn’t need a displaced Crooks mewling about all over the castle, endearing her to no one.

 She walked down the corridor and into the main entrance of Hogwarts, disturbed at how frightening it looked in the dark and stillness of night. But she had defeated Voldemort for Merlin’s sake – she didn’t fear the dark. Or at least she hadn’t until that night. . .

She shook her mind free of such thoughts. She didn’t need to think of the defeat of Voldemort. She didn’t need to think of the fear she’d felt. The dreams that still had her waking up in a cold sweat. The counselors that told her that PTSD was completely normal after what she’d gone through. She didn’t need to focus on that right now. All she wanted to focus on was getting to the bottom of what was making that noise.

She had assumed it was higher up – in her room it had seemed more distant. She began to creep up the stairs, silent as possible. She didn’t want to wake anyone up – and she didn’t need to scare Filch and Mrs. Norris unnecessarily.

She glanced over her shoulders, suddenly sure that she was being watched. But by whom? She peered into the darkness, raising her wand in front of her and viewing nothing. Sleeping portraits who grumbled at her light were the only movements she could view.

She was on the fourth floor landing when she heard the scream again. Shrill and painful. Hermione felt her heart pump a harsh staccato against her breastbone before she rushed up to the sixth floor. At this she paused, waiting for a cry that would indicate which direction.  She heard another scream, this time more of a low moan of agony - she was sure of it. She rushed up the stairs two at a time, her heart pounding in her chest. What was going on? Why was she the only one who could hear it? 

She was on the seventh floor when that that same unease of being watched fell over her and she whipped around, determined to catch her culprit.  Nothing but blackness and shadow greeted her. She thought she could hear the faintest of breathing . . . There!

A streak of white and red suddenly invaded her peripheral, dimmed in the darkness but as her eyes adjusted she could make out the tall figure of Septima Vector. She was crouching near the staircase, her back to Hermione. She seemed to be drawing something on the floor in chalk. She suddenly stilled as if she could feel Hermione’s eyes on her back.  

“Professor Vector?” Hermione whispered, but the figure didn’t acknowledge her. Instead it rushed down the corridor like a phantom, dimming until there was nothing left but Hermione and the darkness.

_What in Merlin’s name was going on?_

For some reason she felt vulnerable standing there and so she continued her upward journey. She was on the eighth floor when she finally stopped, breathing raggedly and waiting for a noise that was no longer coming.  Still she felt compelled to keep going, the feeling of being followed not lost on her.

_You’re imagining things. Just like the counselor said you might. Phantom noises, paranoia. You need to go back to bed._

Yet she didn’t, she continued down one unfamiliar corridor – peeking into the dark and empty classrooms before coming to a large door at the end of the hall. It was surely Aurora’s room and Hermione debated whether to knock on the woman’s door.  She decided against it in the end, realizing she would look childish and unprofessional doing so. What if she _was_ just hearing things?

“Careful,” a silky voice drawled behind her. “Wandering the castle at this time of night is most _suspicious_.”

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin, the chilled voice seeming to seep through her clothes and right up her spine. She twirled with her dark eyes wide and manic. The figure was still, and when she drew her wand up to its face she wasn’t surprised at all to see the illuminated expressionless face of Severus Snape staring back at her.

_Once a spy. . ._

He hadn’t changed in the least. How was that even possible? After eight years how could the man not have changed at all? Still the greasy locks framing his pale face (perhaps an inch or two shorter), the dark eyes that always seemed to glitter with malevolence, the supercilious sneer. He was even wearing similar robes for Merlin’s sake! It was if she were transported back to her first year and he was intimidating her all over again.  

“I heard a scream,” Hermione said, suddenly breathless. “I was investigating. I thought it was coming from around here.”

“Mmm,” came the laconic reply.  The two figures stood staring at one another a moment before Hermione finally found her voice.

“You didn’t hear it?”

“Obviously not.”

“Well. . .” Hermione was suddenly on the defensive, feeling moronic as she stood there as feeble as she had been when he’d mocked her teeth in Year Three. “What are _you_ doing here anyway?”

Snape produced a small vial, holding up the aqua-hued liquid in the darkness. Hermione could barely make out the inscription; it was written in such a cramped, spidery scrawl. She narrowed her eyes on the writing.

“ _Invigoration Draught_ ,” Hermione said, reading it aloud. She recalled the incident in year five with Harry and the vanished potion. She glanced up at Snape, surprised that he would be carrying it around with him.  

“For fatigue,” Snape replied shortly, tucking it back into his robes.  Hermione wrinkled her nose in a moment of confusion. He was brewing here at Hogwarts? Why on earth would he be doing that? She had just assumed he brewed. . .  Well, wherever he was living right now.

 “You made it here?”

“No,” Snape continued flatly. “I’m delivering it to someone.”

Hermione didn’t need to guess at who the someone might be.  Not only would Severus Snape never hand-deliver _anything_ to _anyone_ , they were also at the top of the eighth floor corridor which would lead directly to where Hermione assumed Aurora’s chambers were.  

 “Oh yes,” Hermione said awkwardly, “congratulations. The ring is beautiful.”

Snape said nothing in response, deciding to map her face with his gaze instead. She faltered under his scrutiny before he side-stepped her rudely, making his way to the door behind her. She could hear his boots against the stone floor before ceasing. He muttered something and the door down opened slowly.

Unable to keep from being curious, Hermione turned, viewing as Professor Sinistra clad in a dressing gown, illuminated from the light within, glanced up at Snape with a bright gaze in her sleepy eyes.  She looked like a beautiful angel with the soft light and white gown.  Hermione was suddenly very aware of her own sleep-filled eyes and mad hair.

“Oh Severus,” Aurora said with a soft sight, flinging the door open widely and leaping into his arms.  “I’m so glad you’ve come! I’ve missed you!”

Hermione could barely register the sight as Snape began gathering the woman into his embrace – stiff as it might have been.  Aurora peppered his face with light kisses before her eyes opened and she flashed Hermione a shy smile, just noticing her standing a few yards away looking stricken.

“Oh Hermione,” Aurora said, a bit confused at the sight of the two of them together. She lowered herself from Snape’s tight grip, looking at Hermione from over his shoulder. “What are you doing up this time of night?”

“I was just-“

“ _Leaving_ ,” Snape cut her off rudely, placing the blue phial of the invigoration draught into Sinistra’s welcoming hands and ushering his fiancée into her chambers. Aurora was distracted by the sight of the phial, her eyes bright as she stepped into the chambers, giving Hermione a distracted wave. Hermione looked to Snape in irritation, surprised and put out by his rudeness.

“If that’s _all_ Granger,” Snape snapped, “I suggest you finish your detective work _elsewhere_.”

With that, he slammed the door behind him leaving Hermione standing in the middle of the eighth floor corridor, wondering what on earth had just happened and how she was going to survive a full school year of it.


	5. The Marking

Hermione awoke the next morning already scowling. She was embarrassed at having been skulking around the corridors this late at night, fraught with panic about something that was likely not even real. She was humiliated at having been caught by Severus bloody Snape of all people. And she was frustrated at the thought that this had all been a part of her overactive imagination as a result of her stressful experience taking down Voldemort.

Severus Snape had seen and been through much worse and he wasn’t stalking the corridors of Hogwarts was he? How often was she going to be running into that horrid man anyway? Wasn’t it bad enough that he had haunted her for a majority of her time at Hogwarts? Was she now to be victim to him every time she stepped outside her room?

She flung a pillow angrily across the room, about to groan in displeasure when a snowy owl caught her attention. Errol! She threw off her covers and scrambled to the window, opening it with a flourish. The owl hopped onto her desk dramatically from the windowsill, placing an object into Hermione’s waiting hands before collapsing onto his back.

“Here you are,” Hermione said with a small smile, placing a dish of water beside the slowly recovering Errol. The owl peered open an eye warily before dipping its beak in for a slow, languid drink. Hermione opened the small white box tied with twine as she watched him, taking the lid off the gift gently.

Inside was a large blue-plumed feather with gold ink. It was very special and had obviously set them back several sickles. It was lovely and overtly feminine and decidedly not Hermione’s style at all. Still, she appreciated the thought that went into it and eagerly tore open the envelope.

_Hermione!_

_Congratulations on the position – you’re going to do brilliantly! How is it so far? Have you seen Sinistra yet? Rumor is it she’s engaged to SNAPE of all people! Can you believe it? I can’t! The man may be a war hero, but can you imagine waking up to that face every day? Please write back to let me know if the rumors are true! You know I never know when to take the word of Rita Skeeter._

Hermione giggled openly, feeling rather guilty about laughing about Snape’s looks but after his horrendous treatment of her last night she let herself laugh out loud without abandon before reading once more.

_Anyway, the baby is due any day now. I feel about as attractive as an oversized flobberworm but Harry has been a lamb, taking James for walks and picnics while I sit around and get more morose with every pound I gain. Today I found I can no longer tie my own laces. How do Muggle women do it? How did my mother do this FIVE times even with magic? Can you imagine twins!? I’d never be able to fit through my front door!  It’s madness! After this I’m done!_

_Harry is insisting that Neville be the baby’s godfather, which means I get to choose godmother and I choose you of course! Please say yes! I know you’re already godmother to James, but I want you to be godparent to this one too! Please say yes or I’ll be sure to send you a Howler every morning until you agree._

_Please catch me up on your summer – I didn’t hear from you much. I understand of course, but I’m hoping you’ll ‘keep me in the loop’ as the muggle saying goes. When dad heard about you accepting the position he was quite excited and is keen to hear all about your teaching when you come back to the burrow for the ceremony – he’s already taken to making a list of questions to ask you, so please be prepared with some type of headache remedy. I miss you heaps (so does the rest of the family – Mum wants to know if you want a jumper this Christmas as she’s already started on one)._

_Big kisses to you and a chin scratch to Crooks._

_xo_

_Ginny_

_p.s. I hope you enjoy the quill – Harry and I picked it out especially for you._

Hermione smiled, re-reading the letter a few times before she went to the desk, still in her pajamas and began writing to her friend in earnest using the beautifully plumed quill.

_Dear Ginny,_

_Yes the rumors are true and I’ve seen the ring to prove it! Sinistra is quite lovely though I can’t say the same for her betrothed. Despite all our working to get him out of Azkaban, I think he must still hold some serious resentment. I ran into him last night (long and boring story) and he’s just as miserable as I remember._

_I’m sure you’re positively glowing as most pregnant woman are wont to do. You thought you looked horrid last time too, remember? Except you looked lovely so stop being hard on yourself and join your husband and son on those picnics._

_I’d love to be a godmother to this next baby of yours – but I worry that Ron might not be pleased to see me at the ceremony. You know I’d love to support you, but perhaps my presence there will be more of a distraction than an addition. I hope you understand._

_So far nothing much to note except for plain teaching chambers, a few new professors (including a Charms professor that would have Lavender Brown fainting with delight at every opportunity) and I plan on thoroughly examining the restricted section in the library at the next available opportunity. Today I’m off to explore the castle and learn first-hand from Sinistra how to be a proper Professor. I’m quite excited and a little nervous, but I’m hoping by Christmas I’ll feel like a proper professor in my own right!  I promise I’ll write more, even during exam time!_

_Kisses and hugs to you and the Potter men (do you think this next one may be a girl?)_

_Love,_

_Hermione_

_p.s. Thank you for the quill, it’s lovely and writes brilliantly!_

Errol, quite recovered, took the parchment from Hermione and quickly flew out the window. Hermione closed the window after him before darting into the loo. She had a long day ahead of her and she didn’t want to waste a minute of it.

***

Hermione crept up to the seventh floor of the corridors, her eyes darting nervously at every sound. It was strange to be at Hogwarts before it will full of the din of eager students. Strange to walk freely about knowing that there was no room off limits.

Last night played in her mind and she couldn’t shake the hazy recollection of what seemed like Professor Vector scribbling something on the floor near the banister in chalk! Even though it seemed strange and unlikely, she couldn’t help but shake the need satiate her curiosity.  Had she imagined it? Was this just a result of PTSD?

And so this is what brought her creeping up the stairwell at nine in the morning, her heart fluttering like a butterfly against her ribs despite the light flowing in from all the windows and the delicious scent of cinnamon wafting from the kitchens.

_If there’s a marking there, I didn’t imagine it._

Having no control over such thoughts and fears irritated her, frustrated her. As someone who used rationale and logic to determine her actions having such an illogical ailment pained her. The one thing she had always been able to trust - her mind – could lie to her, play tricks on her.  

 _There’s got to be markings there. There’s_ got _to._

Her feet slowly led towards the banister, where the gauzy form of Vector had been scribbling frantically last night. Had it been Vector though? Or had she just attributed it to the women because of the haircut? She couldn’t be sure. Her dark eyes scanned the stone floor before her, and before her eyes there was the white writing and symbols.

_I didn’t imagine it._

There was a small flood of relief that went through her veins and she gave a shaky smile before she scanned the floor again.

A mix of numbers and lines were in small looping writing; stark white chalk against the dark stone floor. Hermione tried to understand what it meant. Why were the numbers in such an order? And why the lines? It was too jumbled, too strange to actually make sense despite Hermione’s knowledge of Arithmancy. She knelt down to get a closer look, her fingertips tracing along one of the lines that lead from a 4 to a 7.

“Strange,” Hermione murmured to herself, her dark eyes scanning the markings on the floor. She was about to look more intently at the design when she heard someone approaching. She jerked to her feet, looking over her shoulder guiltily to see the impassive face of Septima Vector coming into view.

“Oh hello Professor Vector,” Hermione said, swallowing nervously as the woman approached.  “Have a pleasant breakfast?”

Vector’s eyes glanced down at the chalk marking, her eyes widening a fraction before she placed a sinister looking smile on her features, forcing her eyes to become warmer. She brushed a strand of black hair behind her ear before stepping closer to Hermione.

“I noticed you weren’t there this morning for breakfast, Miss Granger,” Vector said, her voice a sing-song that Hermione didn’t remember. “The cooking not as good as you remember when you were a student?”

Hermione forced a smile onto her face, shaking her head delicately. “No, I just wanted to explore a bit. Too excited to eat, I suppose. I was just on my way to the Library to-”

“On the third floor?” Septima interrupted before sweeping between Hermione and the banister, her boots heavy on the chalked numbers. “I suppose you’ve forgotten your way. It has been a while since you were here. The Library is of course, on the first floor. Come, I’ll show you.”

With that Septima held out her hand in front of her, her foot twisting into the stone as she began walking. Hermione noticed that this had caused the chalk lettering and numbers to be muddled and in most areas erased.

Hermione acquiesced, not wanting to raise anymore suspicion. She and the tall woman sauntered off down the hall, Vector’s hand tapping absently against her leg. Whatever was happening, Hermione couldn’t help but think that Septima Vector was hiding something.

***


	6. The Astronomy Tower

That evening Hermione drew to the Astronomy Tower, as per her missive from Aurora at lunch. She had been avoiding Septima all day – hiding in the library where Madame Pince watched her like a hawk.  She’d gone through some of the Arithmancy texts there, fervently searching for the symbols she’d seen. Nothing like the symbols she’d seen this morning had shown up.

After this frustrating morning, she’d taken a meal in her room and then fallen into a light sleep with Crookshanks nestled against her tummy until the alarm on her wand buzzed her awake.

Now she stood at the top of the stairs to the tower and watched as Aurora fixed the positioning of one of the larger telescopes before peering into it, obviously taken with what she was looking at. Hermione took this moment to observe the Professor. She was lithe and the way she moved between the large brass telescopes was with an inherently fluid grace. Her dark hair was plaited down her back and her robes swishes around her delicate calves. 

Even her dark skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. It was bizarre, Hermione decided, that a woman this seemingly soft and beautiful would be with Snape, a man of cold and sharp planes. Her entire attitude was kind and gentle and Snape couldn’t be more opposite.

As if she could feel herself being watched, Aurora’s gaze slid over to where Hermione stood at the mouth of the tower.

“Oh good, you’re here! Come and see _the Omega Centauri_! It’s especially bright tonight.”

“Omega Centauri?” Hermione inquired as she walked over, pulling her robes tighter against her body. It was a chilled evening.

 While she had been a student of Aurora, they didn’t really focus on the _Omega Centauri_ or other star clusters. Most of their lessons had focused on the movement of planets and how they affected their wand’s abilities.

“Here,” Aurora said, indicating that Hermione should look through the eyehole of the telescope. Hermione bent at the waist, her right eye opening and taking in the stunning view. The cluster of stars shone brightly, causing Hermione’s mouth to part a bit.

“It would be even more brilliant were it not for the full moon,” Aurora said from behind Hermione, her voice soft and melodic. Hermione continued to look at the sight, watching as the globular cluster seemed to dance in the sky.

Hermione stood, seeing that without the aid of the telescope that she could still see it with the naked eye. She glanced over to Aurora who seemed utterly besotted with it. She was obviously a woman who was perfectly suited to her job as Professor.

“Thank you so much for inviting me,” Hermione said graciously. “I admit, I’m a bit nervous about teaching my own classroom.”

Aurora’s silvery eyes slid over to Hermione and she smiled warmly. “It’s my pleasure. You were always such an eager student. I could think of no one better suited to teaching the new generations. Now, I know you enjoy taking notes as you learn. May I ask that you avoid doing that tonight? I want you to take in what you’re seeing. I will answer all questions you have as we go along however. Is this fair?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Aurora nodded, her tone suddenly officious. “When the students come into class, the first thing they will try and do is gauge what type of Professor you are. Are you laid back, uptight and so on. Will you be fun and engaging or cold and strict?”

_Like Professor Snape._

Hermione shook her head rapidly, trying to dislodge the image and all thoughts of her taciturn professor from her mind. Seeing him had truly thrown her for a loop. She focused on what Professor Sinistra was saying as she moved from telescope to telescope, checking their positioning before continuing on to the next one.

“But if you want my advice, Hermione, just be yourself. Don’t worry about fitting into any professor archetype. Don’t try to be something you’re not. Your students will respect you for it and you’ll have much less to worry about in the long run if you’re just sincere and honest with yourself.”

Hermione nodded, what the woman said made sense.  For the next hour Hermione and Aurora went over seating charts, the best way to run a classroom, attendance spells, and so forth. When the hour was up Hermione was feeling much better about starting her first day. She felt more confident, more prepared for what to expect. She couldn’t wait to set up her classroom tomorrow!

“Any more questions?” Aurora asked with a pleasant smile. Hermione wanted to shake her head, take her notebook and leave. But something kept her rooted. A deep-seated desire to understand something confusing.

“Actually, I do,” Hermione confessed slowly, her cheeks suffusing with pink. “But it’s not about the classroom.”

“It’s about Severus, I assume?”

Hermione gaped openly as the woman laughed a merry chiming sound. “You’re not the first, Hermione. Don’t worry. Come, let’s go to my office and have some tea.”

Within minutes the two had drawn to Sinistra’s office where a steaming pot of tea awaited them.  Hermione nibbled on a biscuit as the woman hung up her outer robes on a hook and took a seat across from Hermione, her arms bared and bathed in the light from the fire.

Hermione felt a sudden wave of envy go through her –this woman was so stunning, from her eyes to her hair to the graceful way she moved. She barely made a sound as she walked, as if she were some angel from above.

“Now,” Aurora said officiously, taking a sip from her cup before placing it back down. “You want to know about Severus and I. How we went from being colleagues to engaged.”

Hermione nodded, feeling the flush rising to her cheeks once more. She felt so impossibly rude, asking such a thing from a woman she barely knew. But Aurora seemed non-plussed as if she’d been expecting such inquiries.

“It was after the war,” Aurora said, her eyes glazing at the memory.”He was recovering in the hospital wing. His injuries prevented him from being sent to St. Mungo’s straight away, and besides Pomfrey was insistent she take care of him round the clock. She’d always had a soft spot for him – even when he was a lad.”

_Merlin knows why. I bet he was just as sour as a teenager._

Aurora shot Hermione a sharp look as if she’d read her mind. Hermione went back to her biscuit, waiting for the woman to continue.

“It was late one night and Pomfrey was under the weather. She was desperate for someone to keep look over Severus through the night. As my sleeping schedule was perfect for it, I volunteered. He was awake when I drew to his side. We’d always been on polite terms, but we’d never really been friendly. But when I spoke to him that night, he seemed a changed man. He was more open, less rigid. We even laughed a bit.”

“Laughed?” Hermione tried not to sound too shocked.

“He’s quite morbid in his humor,” Aurora conceded. “But he makes me laugh. I told Pomfrey that I would take the evening shifts with him. Through the weeks we grew closer. He confided in me many things about the war, about Mister Potter and his mother. I began to look forward to our meetings. He seemed to be getting better and better until he was sent to St. Mungo’s several weeks later to convalesce. We wrote to each other quite frequently, and I still have some of the letters. He even wrote bits of poetry in some.”

_Poetry? Was she having a laugh?_

Hermione sat enraptured, not quite believing that the same man who mocked her teeth was this melancholy hero that had captured Sinistra’s heart and affections.  This was the same man who took obscene pleasure in making her life horrid.

And yes, he had done a lot of good in his time – but also a lot of bad. It would take a long time before she found herself thinking well of the Professor, despite all he’d done during the war. She had done her best to see him released and given a new chance at life. As far as she was concerned, they were square.

“I think he believed he would be sentenced to Azkaban for life,” Aurora said with a small frown. “His sentencing of only five years was a hard pill for him to swallow.”

“What do you mean?”

“He believed he deserved a life sentence, or death,” Aurora said, her eyes filling with tears. “I used to visit him when I could. The visitations were scarce you see. Very strict rules there of course. He looked dreadful. I couldn’t even touch him. But when I could see him we talked about everything. How he had betrayed Lily Potter. How he felt he could never love again. But then when he was released. . . He was free to come to me and we began as if none of the past mattered because as far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t. And I showed him that he was very much deserving of love.”

There was a small silence between them when Hermione regarded the woman. Her wobbling chin as she fought off tears. The way she spoke of Severus with such reverence. Could Hermione ever love someone that way?

Hermione nodded gently. “He’s very lucky to have you, Aurora.”

The woman blushed prettily. “I’m quite grateful to you, Hermione.”

“Me?” Hermione cocked her head to the left. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“Without you and your friends championing for his release, Severus might still be there. Isolated and alone.”

“Mmm,” Hermione replied non-commitally.  She couldn’t shake Snape’s miserable attitude to her last night. Why was he so bitter with her if he believed himself to be starting over with a new life? She raised the teacup to her lips.

“And how does he fill his days now?” Hermione inquired politely, surprised that she was actually quite curious to know the answer.

“He has his own little potions shop in Ireland,” she replied with a small smile. “He does consulting and specialized potion making. He comes here on weekends when I’m teaching. It’s so nice to have him around. I always feel so much safer when he’s near me.”

_Great. Which mean’s I’ll be seeing heaps of him during the year._

Hermione forced a smile on her face.  She was about to say something more when Aurora reached for the kettle and Hermione’s gaze was drawn to her inner left arm. It looked like the faint outline of a bat.  

“What’s that?” Hermione inquired pointing. Aurora glanced casually at her inner arm before answering with a soft smile.

“Oh this? My patronus. I got it done when I was eighteen.”

“I can’t imagine having a tattoo of an otter on my arm,” Hermione said with a soft smile. “Or really, anywhere on my body.”

“It was quite common when I was a student,” Aurora said with a small giggle. She was about to say something more when the woman suddenly stopped mid-sentence, her eyes peering into the darkness behind Hermione’s head. She quickly withdrew her wand, her hands tightly around the weapon.

 A shudder ran through Hermione at that moment, seeing the woman stilled and feral. Hermione was about to ask what the trouble was when she heard it – a low growling that seemed to be coming from behind the closed door.

“Did you hear that?” Hermione asked, her eyes suddenly wide. She felt idiotic for asking, for the woman had surely heard far before she had. Aurora stood, her eyes on the large oak door behind Hermione. The girl made a motion to stand and follow.

“Stay here,” Sinistra said gently, pressing Hermione back into her chair. The two women had their wands at the ready.  Without warning, Sinistra had whipped open the door and called out “ _Lumos_ ”. The tip of her wand glowed brightly but nothing was there. Hermione was still at her chair, her body twisted to see what was happening.

The room suddenly grew small and claustrophobic and Hermione felt the familiar tremble in her fingers going through her entire body. Her entire body thrummed with an electric panic and before she could control it, her body was shaking.

 “I wonder what that was,” the older woman mused, her eyes scanning the darkness before she walked back into the office to see  Hermione with her head between her knees, breathing in ragged gasps.

“Oh my dear,” Aurora said, coming to rub Hermione’s back affectionately. “What’s happening?”

“P-panic,” Hermione whimpered between gasps. “Panic attack. Ever….ever since the war-“

“Say no more,” Aurora said gently, her hands running through Hermione’s hair gently, almost motherly. “I understand completely. Now copy my breathing. Deep in one… and let it out. Deep in two…”

Hermione did as the woman instructed until the fog was gone and the beating of her heart returned to normal.  When she finally sat up her entire face was a deep crimson and she could feel the heat of humiliation covering her entire body.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Hermione said, her eyes filling with shameful tears. “I just haven’t felt like that in a long time.”

“It’s no wonder,” Aurora said gingerly taking Hermione hand in her own. “Back here at Hogwarts. Strange noises. It’s no wonder you’re feeling on edge. Come on, let’s get you back to your room. You need a good night’s sleep.”

Hermione nodded, trying to keep the tears from falling. The last thing she needed was to humiliate herself in front of her peer. The two women walked in silence, arm in arm down the spindling hallways of Hogwarts.  When they finally reached Hermione’s door she looked to the older woman with a puzzled expression.

“Do you know Professor Vector very well?”

As if a draft went through the corridor, a coolness settled between the two. Sinistra seemed to stiffen then, her eyes narrowing on Hermione.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” Hermione said quickly, not wanting to shake this feeling of burgeoning friendship. Obviously this was not the time or the person to speak to about her suspicions about Vector and the strange symbols she’d seen.  

“Would you like me to come in?” Sinistra said with a gentle nod. “We could talk a bit more.”

“I think I’ll be okay,” Hermione said, taking the woman’s hand and squeezing gently.  “Thank you for everything, Aurora. For talking with me and helping me and… Understanding.”

“Of course,” Aurora said, surprising the girl with a firm hug. Hermione was about to turn and go into the room when she heard Aurora speaking again.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, I need you to promise me that you’ll come to see me straight away,” Sinistra insisted, her eyes serious in the firelight. Those silvery eyes that could be so kind and warm and then so icy. But now they were full of warmth and understanding and Hermione could only nod.

“I promise.”

With that the two women parted and Hermione collapsed onto her bed. Crooks came and rubbed up against her before rushing to the window. Hermione knew what this meant and struggling to her knees she shuffled to the large window to let her cat out for a bit of a walk and exploration of the familiar place.  

She lay back on her bed, her thoughts whirling with all the information she’d learned today. It was a strange experience and for a moment before she fell into slumber, Hermione wondered if she’d made a new friend in Aurora Sinistra.


	7. The Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did warn you this story would be darker than others. . .

By the time the end of August arrived at Hogwarts, Hermione had finished her first three months work of outlines for her class.  She had organized her classroom exactly to her specifications – several Muggle artifacts like VHS and Discman’s sat on the shelves. Others were lined with Muggle authors and poets like Shakespeare, Jane Austen, Byron and more reached to the ceiling.

Instruments of all size were on the far left side. Trumpets, saxophones, drums and a clarinet could easily be seen. At the far right side nearing the back were the art supplies; easels, paints and brushes, canvas and more.

On every student desk lay a pencil and pen, accompanied with several sheaves of lined paper. Hermione smiled to herself, recalling her primary days before Hogwarts writing in such a fashion. At the front of the classroom was her blackboard which had the following day’s lesson prepared and she stood before it pondering when she heard the door open quickly.

“You’re still in here?” came the playful shocked tone of Edgar. “I thought you’d be headed for the meeting by now!”

In the time since being taken under Aurora’s wing, Hermione had also grown closer to the new Charms teacher, Edgar. Being the youngest and newest teachers they had relied on each other.  And Hermione couldn’t deny that in that time she had started to feel the slightest tender feeling for the man. He was brilliant, handsome and when he smiled Hermione felt her heart hiccup.

“I’m ready,” she said with a small smile. “Let’s go.”

Hermione followed his long gait until they reached the Staff Room of Hogwarts; the long paneled room with a variety of chairs, none of which matched.  Since the Battle of Hogwarts, the gargoyles who used to guard it were gone. Instead it was now under a charm of McGonagall’s devising.

When she entered, Hermione was embarrassed to note that she and Edgar were the last to arrive. They quickly took the last empty seats on opposite sides of the table. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth and coffee had been passed around to all the Professors. Aurora looked like she really needed it, trying not to nod off as McGonagall stood and drew their attention. 

“The students will be arriving tomorrow,” she said in her professional clipped tones. “I trust you have all finished settling into your classrooms and organizing how your days will commence.”

She gave a pointed look at the newest teaching acquisitions before continuing.  She droned on for a good hour about the events that would proceed tomorrow. Where they would be seated at the Head Table (Hermione between Aurora and Pamona, Edgar between Vector and Hagrid) for the duration of the school year. Who would be doing patrols (Hermione and Vector on Friday nights, she was none too pleased to note).

Vector was the only staff who hadn’t completely warmed up to Hermione. Something that Hermione couldn’t really understand. She had always like Vector’s classes, citing them as a true challenge and something she craved to learn more about.  Even now as she raised her eyes to meet Vector’s, the woman’s icy gaze moved from Hermione to Edgar and then over to McGonagall.  Hermione focused more intently on Minerva, not wanting to show disrespect.

“Tonight we will have a private dinner for all the staff here, to celebrate the start of classes. An annual tradition for those of you unaware. You may of course bring your partners. Dinner will begin here at seven sharp and we will end at _the Three Broomsticks_.”

Hermione suppressed a groan that was building within at McGonagall’s words. Partners meant _Snape_. And Snape meant trouble. Ever since his rude altercation with her a week ago she had steered clear of Aurora’s chambers. She had mercifully seen very little of him since then and she wanted to continue in that vein. He did nothing but ruin her best of moods and knowing that he may be in attendance tonight caused her stomach to jump uncomfortably.

Still, as Edgar caught her eye across the table and gave her a shy smile, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if the evening may be better than originally thought.

***

It turned out all her panic had been for nothing, for neither Aurora or Snape were present for the evening’s festivities. Hermione felt a shudder of relief go through her, quickly replaced with a sense of anticipation at having an evening with Edgar.

The two had been working quite closely together, and while nothing of a romantic nature had blossomed (Hermione had been far too fixated on getting her classroom and studies in order) she couldn’t deny the burgeoning attraction she was beginning to feel for the shy blue-eyed boy.

He was nothing like Ron, that much was obvious.  He was clever and shy and (thank Merlin) had very little interest in Quidditch. He had a passing interest in knowing what teams were in the finals, but that was it. In short, he was quite perfect.

And now as he approached her at the long table in the center of the great Hall, Hermione felt her cheeks redden ever so slightly.  He was about to take the seat opposite her when a large figure suddenly plunked himself down across from her and she had to hide a moue of displeasure.

“’Ello there ‘Ermione,” Hagrid said, his breath already pungent with brandy. “Though I’d catch up with yeh. Yeh been so busy workin’ away in yer classroom we haven’t had a chance to chat.”

Hermione smiled up at the half giant, nodding in agreement whilst also noticing that Edgar had moved to the last empty chair at the table beside Pamona. She seemed delighted at his presence, saying something that caused him to grin and blush handsomely.

Dinner was a delicious feast of chicken, jacket potatoes, sprouts (from the so named Gardener’s garden), roast beef, gravy, yorkshire pudding, fairy cakes, jammy dodgers and more. By the end Hermione was full – both of food and of listening to Hagrid’s stories.

She had been delighted to speak with him, but her life hadn’t been that interested these last eight years. Meanwhile Hagrid’s daily life was a never ending book of adventures and misfortures. The latter were almost always his own doing.

She took another sip of her wine, her attention drawing down the line of professors. But no, Edgar was deep in conversation with Vector now. Hermione frowned, nodding along as Hagrid said something else about Grawp and the nearby bat cave that Hagrid had sourced for new teaching material.

Something about the bat suddenly caused Hermione to recall her conversation with Aurora and she looked up to the half giant in curiosity.

“Hagrid, is it common for magic folk to have tattoos?”

Hagrid’s eyes were bleary from the alcohol and good food and when he replied he did so sluggishly.

“I dunno.”

Hermione nodded in disappointment and began poking at her chicken. She had no interest in going to the Three Broomsticks. She was tired and anxious about tomorrow. It was getting late and even if she had a chance to chat Edgar up, she’d be too distracted about tomorrow to care.

Minerva turned in her seat, her attention drawn to the conversation as Hagrid excused himself to use the loo. He took several lumbering steps towards the door, pushing through it ham fistedly as he weaved around the corner.

“I hope he makes it safely,” Hermione said under her breath.

“As do I,” Minerva agreed before fixing Hermione with a curious look. “May I ask why you were asking him about tattoos? Are you thinking of getting one?”

“Oh no,” Hermione said quickly with a laugh. “I just noticed that when I was with Aurora, she had one and it made me wonder if it’s a common thing in magical communities. In the muggle world, only those thought of as ‘rebels’ have them.”

“Interesting,” Minerva said thoughtfully. “Many of us have imprinted images of our patronus’ on our bodies.”

“Even you?”

 “I’ve got a cat just on my shoulder blade,” Minerva nodded, surprising Hermione.  “I believe Flitwick had a crow on his leg, Aurora as you know has a bat on her upper arm, Vector has a spider on her wrist, Trelawney has an ostrich on the small of her back and Albus had a phoenix over his heart. I’m not sure about the rest of the staff.”

Hermione gaped openly at the woman, thinking of how tattoos were regarded in the muggle world as something for hoodlums and bikers! She couldn’t imagine her straight-laced professors doing something like it!

“Don’t looked so scandalized Hermione,” McGonagall said with a small trill of a laugh. “It’s quite common for witches and wizards to get them after they graduate school. A celebration of sorts. Or at least it was. Seems to have fallen out of fashion in the last two decades or so.”

“I never knew,” Hermione offered feebly.

“Well you wouldn’t,” Minerva said comfortingly. “Growing up in a Muggle household, how could you?”

Hermione was about to respond when Minerva suddenly got to her feet. She rang out in a loud, cheery voice that all interested in attending the _Three Broomsticks_ better shake a leg. Hermione searched down the table for Edgar, wondering if he was attending when she noticed he was gone. Likely nervous as she was. She felt a bit disappointed, she had sort of been hoping he’d walk her to her rooms.

Everyone at the table stood, pulling on their outer robes and saying that they could use a last little drink before the classes began. Within seconds they all headed for the front door with Minerva on their tails. Hermione noted the several emptied glasses of wine beside the Headmistresses dinner plate and mused that perhaps McGonagall should be careful when she disapparated.

***

Hermione slowly made her way down the long corridor towards her rooms. She hadn’t drunk much, but even the slight tipple caused her eyes to struggle in focusing as she weaved her own way towards her destination.

She was heading to her room and she was going to have a proper night’s sleep. She would awake tomorrow with vigor and enjoy the challenge of her new students.  This is what she told herself as her traitorously licentious body urged her to do something altogether different.

_Edgar is in his room by now. Alone. There’s barely anyone left in the castle._

Casual sex was not something Hermione Granger would have ever considered when sober, and even now tipsy, thought caused her mouth to run dry. But there was nothing wrong with a bit of light flirting? A quick fumble? Who said it had to be sex?

But no. It was inappropriate behavior. She had her reputation to think of. She was a Professor now, not some hormone driven adolescent.  She didn’t need to go climbing up the steps and suss Edgar out. Who said Edgar would even be amenable?

_Ron would do it._

Hermione knew that this was true. Ron had no qualms about casual sex if _the Daily Prophet_ was anything to go by. He had made up lost time by bedding a variety of Quidditch playing women. This didn’t really bother Hermione. It was the thought that she herself would never dare to do something so…wonton that caused her cheeks to burn.

_Why not? You’re almost thirty for Merlin’s sake! So what if you want a casual snogging session? And if it leads to something else…_

She was still fighting against such a line of thought when she realized her feet had already marched up several flights of stairs. She was already on the third floor when she stopped herself in front of his door. She raised her hand, about to knock on his door when the sound of groaning stopped her. It was coming from a higher floor. At the sound Hermione quickly fled into the darkness and ascended the staircase quietly.

What if it was what had made that noise before? The one she had convinced herself she hadn’t heard? A sudden chill went through her at the thought that whatever made that unearthly sound last week was back. And she was alone in the darkened corridor – the majority of the Professors gone. There was no one to run to now.

 _No running to Professors now, Hermione. You_ are _the professor!_

She gripped her wand tightly in her hand, unsheathing it from the arm of her robes as she made her way up the flight of stairs. She ensured her shoes were cushioned with a small silencing charm. She was breaking through her mouth and quickly covered her mouth with her free hand.

 A panic went through her that Aurora hadn’t been at the dinner tonight- what if she were in danger? Much like Hermione had been during her first encounter with a troll!?  

It was this thought for her new friendship that caused the Gryffindor to swallow thickly and creep closer towards the sound. The groaning growl ebbed and jumped, sounding harsh and then fading into nothing. It almost sounded like it was in pain and it didn’t appear it was moving. Taking advance of this, Hermione quietly and stealthily moved her head around the stone corner to catch a glimpse of the creature.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark, but when they did she had to squeeze her mouth shut to avoid shrieking.  

There were two figures up against the far end of the corridor. The taller, paler of the two had his back against the wall, his head tilted back in rapacious pleasure. His long fingers were pressed against the wall, as if he were pinned. The lower half of his body was hidden from view by the woman kneeling before him, facing away from Hermione and performing what Hermione could only assume was very enthusiastic fellatio.

It was Snape and Sinastra and both were making strange, groaning noises as Aurora continued to pleasure the Professor. That was the sound Hermione had heard and she was suddenly mortified that’s she could have thought it were anything else.

The woman moaned around his cock, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back.  She was gripping Snape’s hips and pulling him closer, needing more of him, all of him in her mouth. She let out another feral growled groan as he thrust into her mouth. The sound went right through Hermione, through the soles of her sensible mary jane shoes. The blue black of Snape’s hair shone in the moonlight and his jaw clenched tightly.

_This isn’t real. I’m not seeing this._

And yet something kept her in place. Something that found the entire thing grotesque and fascinating all at once. Seeing Snape so…defenseless was something she had never anticipated. The way his black eyelashes fanned against his pale face. The way he’d unbuttoned his frock coat so that the long column of his throat was exposed as he tilted his head back.

 She didn’t know how long she stood there, shocked and stilled from the sight. She knew that a thumping had begun in her abdomen and she felt her entire body cold and shaken from what she was seeing.

Before she could move away, Snape’s eyes had cracked open and she _knew_ she’d been seen.  She went immobile, as if she’d been hit with a _Petrificus Totalus_ _spell._ She felt she couldn’t move even if she wanted to _._ Her eyes widened and she waited for his inevitable berating of her. For him to pull up his trousers and hex her. To make her suffer the humiliations she knew she deserved.

But instead Snape's eyes opened fully and he regarded her a second before he gave the most oily smirk she had ever seen on him. It was feral and ugly and it made him appear much more frightening than she had ever seen him before. It caused her body to break out into gooseflesh. 

“Yes,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving Hermione’s face. “Just like that.”

Hermione watched transfixed as Snape’s left hand went to Aurora’s hair, twining around some of her thick black locks and gripping tightly.  She felt her stomach bottom out at the sight, her mouth suddenly dry as she viewed the normally taciturn Snape begin thrusting his hips into Aurora’s face quickly. She saw Aurora’s head jerk at the motion, her pleasurable moans continuing.  But Snape’s eyes never left Hermione’s face.

“Take it all,” he ordered silkily.

Aurora gasped in delight at this, her fingernails raking down Snape’s abdomen before coming to grip his bottom. Hermione didn’t know what happened next because finally free of the spell she’d been under, she quickly whirled around and threw herself down the staircase. The sounds of their pleasure ringing in her ears as she descended. 

 

 


	8. The Cry

"Hermione?"

Hermione jerked awake at the sound of her name being called, her head swimming as she sat upright.

What had happened? The last thing she could remember was... She shuddered, repulsed as the image of Snape and Aurora played through her mind.

She peered up to see twin blue eyes staring down at her with concern and she blinked to clear the sleep from her eyes.

"Edgar?"

"I think you fell asleep here," Edgar said gently, motioning to where they were. "Are you alright?"

Hermione swallowed thickly, glancing around the sparse great Hall. The empty plates and glasses were gone and the only sign of festive cheer was the table still arranged to house the staff for the meal.

"I noticed you nodding off when you were speaking with Hagrid earlier," Edgar said with a toothy smile. "I didn't know he could actually put you to sleep with his stories."

Hermione didn't return the smile. Her mind was still upstairs, still in the corridor with Snapes awful oily smile.

"Wait. How long have I been asleep?" Hermione asked bleary-eyed, still confused as to how she was here. "How long have I been here?"

"Not long," Edgar offered with a shrug. "I left to go grab a few things for the pub. When I came back you were asleep here."

Hermione finally seemed to understand. It was all starting to come back to her. She had drunk a bit too much and when the others left she'd simply put her head down to stop the movement. However she'd fallen asleep in the position.

It had all been an awful dream.

No, a nightmare.

The relief she felt was palpable and a calm smile passed over her features.

"Now that you're awake, can I walk you to your room?" Edgar asked politely extending his arm to her.

She took it, smiling graciously up at him before following him down the corridor outside the great Hall.

"Thank you Edgar."

***

_Hello Ginny,_

_Yes I've received your notes and yes, fine, I officially agree to be your babies' godmother. I only ask that you tell me what a good gift is to bring. I feel I loused it up last time with the wizarding encyclopedia set for little Albus._

_I'm quite knackered, thanks for asking! The first month of classes are finally over and I feel I can truly breathe. I've not been sacked so I can only assume that I'm doing a fair job._

_So far the classes have been smashing and the students are lovely! They're so inquisitive about muggle culture, I feel like they are all miniature Arthur's!_

Her quill hovered over this sentence as she fought the urge to amend or with: _all save for one._

Ralphina Zeeb. Phi-phi to her friends. Nightmare to Hermione.

Her mother was an English tailor, her father a European diplomat. She was white blonde and her icy eyes regarded Hermione as inferior the moment she stepped into the great Hall on her first day.

With her looks and haughty attitude Hermione was certain she'd be sorted into Slytherin. To her surprise it was Ravenclaw that she was accepted to.

Ralphina had no interest in muggle studies. She had been sure to point that out to her friends during her first week of being in Hermione's class.

"No one actually takes this class seriously," Hermione overheard her saying as she passed the Ravenclaw table in the great Hall on her way to breakfast. "Everyone knows Muggle Studies are just easy O's."

The friends had tittered in agreement, none noticing their professor's reddened cheeks. But Hermione hadn't let that deter her and she sure as hell wouldn't compromise her teaching because of it.

Hermione went back to writing her letter, thankful that she was free to enjoy her weekend- after the patrolling tonight of course. As she wrote the next section her stomach fluttered delightfully.

_You may be interested to note that Edgar is also doing wonderfully and he can't wait to meet you and your newest bundle of joy. You must be ready to pop any day now?_

_No, before you ask (again) Edgar and I are still not seeing each other. We're just good friends. It's wouldn't be very professional to date a coworker, would it?_

***

"Fuck, you're incredible," Edgar groaned as Hermione sat astride him. She bounced up and down his pelvis, grinding herself down on his cock and arching wontonly.

It was after her Friday night patrols and she had come to his rooms wet and desperate for his touch. One look at her shining eyes and he had pulled her inside, throwing her on the bed and covering her in kisses.

It wasn't long before he'd maneuvered her on top of him - his favorite position. From this angle he could see Hermione's tits bouncing as she rode him. And her quim clenched around his cock tightly in this position, causing his eyes to roll in the back of his head.

"You're the sexiest thing I've ever seen," Edgar gasped, holding her hips and thrusting upwards. Hermione groaned at the contact, letting her head fall backwards in abandon.

Sex with Ron had always been rather perfunctory and towards the end, quite mechanical. He knew what she liked and instead of building her up he was content to press the buttons until they no longer worked.

"Don't hold back," he gasped, his hips pounding upwards relentlessly. His fingers finding her nipples and teasing them roughly. "I want to hear you."

Sex with Edgar was passionate and engulfing but a bit one sided. He made her feel like a goddess, that was true. The things he said made her blush prettily and preen in a way she never had.

But he also had the nasty habit of finishing far before Hermione had the chance.

But now as he lay there below her, light from the full moon highlighting his handsome face, Hermione felt her insides begin to quake and she ground against him.

"You're gonna make me cum," Edgar moaned, gripping her chest in his handand thrusting up into her wet folds with increasing fervor. "I'm gonna---"

 _Not yet_ , Hermione internally begged. But too soon she felt as Edgar's body released beneath her before shooting up into her and marking her from the inside.

They collapsed together onto the bed with Edgar holding her in his arms gently and nuzzling his face into her hair.

They lay like this for several minutes and Hermione found herself feeling rather calm and relaxed. If only she'd known how wonderful sex was at relieving tension- she would have gotten around to it earlier.

"Did you?" He hedged, panting into her temple. She felt the rasp of his beard on her cheek.

"Uh huh," Hermione lied, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She sat up slowly. "But I should really head back to my rooms."

"Are you sure?" Edgar propped himself up on one elbow, looking at her from under his dark hair. She looked at his full mouth and with a grin placed a kiss there before pulling back.

"Yeah," Hermione nodded, pulling on her clothes. "I would hate to be caught by McGonagall or one of the other professors."

Hermione and Edgar had agreed early on that their relationship must remain discreet. Yes, they both fancied each other but they also were both new teachers. They didn't need to risk their positions.

"Alright," Edgar said, pretending to pout. "At least let me walk you to your rooms."

Hermione gave him a good natured push on the shoulder to keep him from leaving the bed. "If you do that, you're just going to try and shag me in _my_ rooms."

He gave her a look of feigned offence, but quickly followed it with a quick pat to her bottom.

"You really _are_ the cleverest witch of your age."

***

Hermione crept down the corridors, hastily buttoning her robes as she went. She hoped she didn't run into Pomona or Vector. She must look a fright!

She was just at the end of the corridor when she saw something white go stealing down the staircase at an inhuman speed. Had they been running on all fours?

Her mouth went dry as she realized that it had to have been a student out of bed. Likely wanting to pull a prank. The Weasley's would forever live on with their products being confiscated at all times. Hermione thought back to the Twins and felt a small feeling of Remembrance tug at her.

but what did that mean? Had her eyes just been tricked by the light? No, she was certain that it had to be something else. She glanced down at her wrist watch and saw it was well past two in the morning. No one was to be in the corridors.

She hedged herself at the top of the stairs, unsure of what to do or how to proceed. Should she grab another professor? The headmistress? No, Hermione decided, she was a professor now and she had to act like one. If that meant disciplining students then so be it.

An soft inhuman sound suddenly touched her ears and she spun in spot. It was unlike anything she had ever heard before. It was a whispered, plaintive cry. Even when the ghosts rattled their chains or went streaking down the hallways they never made a chilling noise like this.

If she hadn't been nearby she wondered if she ever would have heard it through the thick stone walls. Surely no one else did because there were no sounds of professors coming to see what the disturbance was. It was just her. All alone. Just as before.

"I'm definitely awake this time," Hermione told herself. She brandished her wand and slowly crept through the corridor.

Her hurried footsteps sounded on the flagship floors as she threw heels down the stairs. She peered into the empty classrooms and into the great Hall as she ran and found all were empty and barren.

All of a sudden the soft, anguished sound started up again in the distance and it caused gooseflesh to break out all over her body. She felt her eyes go wide with fear.

It sounded as if it were coming from just outside the door, near the greenhouses and veggie patch.

What if it were something dangerous? She had a responsibility to the students. She had to protect them. Without thinking of temperature, Hermione flung herself through the door, trying to quell the hammering of her heart.

"Who is there?" Hermione asked in a voice that trembled only slightly. She thought she heard something near the back of the greenhouse and advanced quickly there, about to cast Lumos.

The Moon spilled through the gardens, lighting the ground but not where she stood. She couldn't see what was out further. All of a sudden she thought she could see a slash of white in the darkness and she started.

"Stop!" she demanded into the darkness, hearing rustling from ahead. Acting on instinct, she pointed her wand at the mysterious figure ahead of her.

"Immobulus!"

Shots of blue sparked out the end of her wand and shot blindly into the night. She could see immediately that they hadn't made contact.

"Are you insane?!" A booming voice called from in front of her, frightening her. "Casting hexes in the dark?! Lumos!"

Immediately the wand in front of her glowed and she could see Severus Snape striding towards her, his wand raised high in the air and casting light in his path.

"I should have known," he said without feeling. "Miss Granger."

"I'm so sorry sir," Hermione gulped, feeling just as she had on his classroom as he approached. "I thought I saw something."

"I did draw that conclusion," Snape said with a sneer as he lowered his wand. "I didn't fancy you were out here alone shooting hexes into the dark for fun."

She ignored the disdain in his voice and instead kept eyeing around in case she could see anything. She felt the oppressive need to prove to him that she hadn't been making it up.

She also found that thanks for that horrible dream from last month that it was impossible to look him straight in the face without reddening. He was looking at her with a calculated gaze and she felt herself flush under the attention

"Did you see anyone?"

"I did not." Snape fixed her with a look unlike any he had ever given her before and she braced herself for the withering criticism that was sure to come.

"I'm concerned however that this is the second time I've found you out at night, creeping after something that doesn't exist."

Hermione looked at him angrily. He hought she was out here doing this for fun? That she was making all this up for what? Attention? She clenched her wand tightly in her fist and she had to ensure that she didn't snap it off in frustration.

"You think I'm imagining this all?"

Snape raised a brow. "I never said that."

"You didn't have to," Hermione huffed.

She waited for him to say something acidic. Or for him to turn on his heel and just shoulder past her is if she were some bothersome drapey. But instead he looked at her, truly looked at her with concern.

"I have seen a lot of what the war can do to people. Especially young people," Snape said quietly. "Have you ever talked to anyone about what happened? A professional? If not I would suggest it."

He really was calling her crazy! To her face! Standing there all calm and collected as if he was a paradigm of mental health. Now a rise of indignation filled her and she felt her teeth clenching angrily when she looked up the tall and miserable face of her old professor.

"You don't work here anymore," Hermione said meanly. "So I don't see why you should be giving me unwarranted advice. I'm not you're student anymore, Professor."

She expected Snape to be offended at this or at least be taken down a peg. But instead his mouth quirked into a small grin.

"Indeed," he said in a deep purr. "You are not the student I once knew."

She didn't know what was meant by that comment, but the sarcastic way he was holding his mouth made her feel he was mocking her. He'd always had that ability.

"You must be exhausted," he continued silkily. "You look as if though you've had a... busy night."

His eyes dipped a fraction to her hastily done robes and then back to her face. He could smell the sex on her. She was sure if it. The thought caused her to draw her arms around herself in embarrassment.

"Yes well, it's rather late," she said quietly. "Goodnight."

She didn't wait for his reply but heard him whisper a solemn "goodnight" to her back. She pushed her way into the school and rushed towards her rooms and embarrassment and anger.

Howow dare he say those things to her? How dare he look at her with that supercilious look on his pale, ugly face?

He wasn't even a teacher here anymore! Why on Earth was he trying to ladel out sage advice and stalking around the garden in the first place? If anything's Hermione felt a twitch of concern. Was it Snape that she'd seen and heard? Was he trying to hide something?

These thoughts began to jumble around in her head as she made her way to her door. She was about to push through when something on the floor caught her eye. Chalk markings, symbols she didn't recognize we're littering the ground outside her door.

How long had they been there? They hadn't been there when she'd gone off to see Edgar. But then again she hadn't been back to her room for hours. Were these symbols a curse or hex? Had someone been waiting for her? Is that who she'd seen?

She realized they were similar to the ones she'd seen on her first night.

Vector. She had to see Vector first thing in the morning.


End file.
